


The Parting Glass

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: But They Deserved a Better Ending, Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Missing Scene, Not A Fix-It, Past Relationship(s), The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: “Come have a drink before we leave.”





	The Parting Glass

Some of it had been better than “pretty good”, and standing here in his embrace only reminded her how much better it had been, long ago and far away. So long before it felt like another lifetime, another Leia, another Han.   
  
Maybe they had been, then.   
  
Eventually, his arms relaxed around her and he pulled back, warily gazing down at her. Those were still the same hazel eyes, though, stormy as the Corellian sea, full of conflict and care.   
  
“Come have a drink before we leave.”   
  
She stood, wondering why she’s agreed to him leaving again, so soon, too soon.   
  


“Sure, Han.” 

_I’d rather you not leave,_ unsaid, but understood and mutual, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. They’d always understood one another so well, even when in conflict.   
  
Maybe that had been part of the problem.   
  
The Falcon was even dirtier than she remembered, years of uncleaned grime and desert sands staining an interior that had at least been cream when she’d last been aboard. How long had it been—at least five years, closer to ten?   
  
Now it was more beige, probably truly more dirt than ship. A few access hatches were missing, some deck plates replaced with open grating. Masses of loose, straggling wires that Han would never have tolerated spiraled down the bulkheads and into roughly cut access holes. She’d loved this ship once, too, had thought of it as home, and it hurt her to see it such a condition.   
  
“She was on Jakku?”   
  
“Yeah. Went through a few hands after I...lost her. Lucky she wasn’t stripped for parts.”   
  
“Were there enough working parts to make that a worthwhile endeavor?” Her tone was wry, but she gave him a knowing wink when he half-turned to glare at her.   
  
“General! You know no one else could ever figure that out. Defensive planning.” He tapped his temple like it had been a genius maneuver, but they both laughed softly.   
  
The galley was still as tight as she remembered, no cleaner than the rest of the ship. A smattering of bottles and cans wedged into the open shelving. Han picked up two dented cups and peered at them before deciding they seemed clean and sitting them on the counter in front of him.   
  
“There’s not much of a selection,” he said with a wave at the singular liquor bottle.   
  
“I remember there being even less of a selection, once.” They’d drunk everything on the ship on the way to Bespin, out of liquor and kaffe and even tea, subsisting on water and ration packs those last few days.   
  
“Maybe not one of those good times.”   
  
“Oh I seem to recall that we had a very good time on that trip. It’s what happened after landing that didn’t quite go to plan.”   
  
“When did anything ever?” His cocky, crooked smile made her heart trip a beat as he poured two glasses of whiskey.   
  
“Do you have a plan for this?” She took the cup carefully, not meeting his eye, not wanting him to see the feeling and premonition in hers.   
  
Rather than answer, he stepped over to the dejarik table—seemingly the cleanest spot on the ship, somehow—and sat down heavily on the acceleration bench. “D’you really think he’ll listen to me? Now, after everything?”   
  
She made her way over to the bench as well, sliding in close beside him with a sigh. How many times had they sat here, laughing and crying? Lifting her glass, she clinked it softly against his and took a measured sip, feeling the burn at the top of her throat.   
  
“He did always like you better than me.”   
  
“Leia you know that’s not—“   
  
“You know it is true.You were always the fun one, while I was rules and homework.”   
  
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t—didn’t love you—“   
  
She cut him off with a sharp shake of the head and a heavy sigh. “I can’t shake the ominous feeling I have about this mission. But I can’t tell if it’s for him or you or me or the whole Resistance.”   
  
Han took a sip of his own drink, watching her as he did so. After swallowing he nodded slowly. “That a Force thing or just an in general sorta thing?”   
  
“A Force thing,” she answered softly, warily. She hadn’t consciously used it, not since Ben and Luke and her whole life turning upside down. But there were times when it manifested itself and couldn’t be ignored. Now it was gnawing at her stomach and setting off klaxons in her head, and all she had ever wanted was peace.

“You sure it’s not just wanting to get your hands dirty again? Blow up a few Imps for old times?”

“They’re not Imperials any more. I spent so much time in government thinking I missed actual combat while I was sitting around conference tables, but I was wrong. I’m tired of getting my hands dirty. I’m tired of fighting for every damn being in this galaxy and watching them throw peace away with both hands.”

He shifted beside her, brushed her wrist with his thumb. “You think you’ll find that if I can bring him home?”

For a long minute she looked at him, met that earnest hopeful gaze that part of her was still rather smitten with, then broke their eye contact as a tear slipped down her cheek. She shook her head as he raised a hand to brush it away, and looked up at him again. “I think it’s too late for me to find that. I had my chance and it all went wrong.”

His glass hit the table with a sharp crack, and he sat back. “You’ve never been a pessimist or a quitter.”

“Maybe I’ve failed one too many times.”

“You've never failed at anything in your life, Princess.”

“And yet there you sit, my former husband.”

“I never signed the forms.”

Turning the cup in her hands, she studied the ripples of the whiskey for a moment before forcing herself to look at him. “I know. But it feels the same. It’s been the same, as if you had.”

“It’s not the same to me. It’s why I didn’t sign ‘em.”

She studied his face for what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been longer than a few heartbeats. “Is this another of your grand, misguided gestures? Join the cause, go blow up the bad guys, impress the Princess. Aren’t you too old for that? Aren’t _we_ too old for that?”

“Dunno, depends. Will it work?” That damned smile again, as if they were kids again. 

Had they ever been kids? It might have been easier if they were, once. When they’d met, he was already jaded and she’d already lost a planet, and neither of them ever felt young and optimistic after that.

Tipping back the last of her drink, she leaned forward, lips almost brushing his rough cheek, to whisper in his ear. “Make it happen. Then come ask me.”

As she backed away and stood, he gave her that same wink and smirk he’d given her at Yavin. “Yes, ma’am,” along with a little mock salute.

She turned away quickly, trying to hide her smile, but he knew. He always knew. Casting her eyes around the lounge, the resurrection of what had been such an enormous part of saving her life so many times over, she made her way slowly towards the ramp. 

“Leia, I….” 

His voice stopped her short, and she pivoted back to face him, still seated, but leaning forward, cup clasped in his hands.

“Don’t. Tell me when you get back.” She knew, they’d both always known, but love had never been the problem between them. It just hadn’t always been enough.

Volumes unsaid crackled between them as he merely nodded once, then raised his glass, downing the last of the whiskey. With a small, sad smile, she turned away again, making her way down the ramp of the Falcon.

As she did, for the first time in years, she reached out with the Force, found his vibrant, comforting presence, not diminished over the years. Familiar as his kiss.

_I never liked your leaving,_ she thought, _but all I ever wanted was for you to come back to me._

She could feel his love and regret, and more than anything, _I know._

*


End file.
